Solicitous
by Xirysa
Summary: She's definitely not nervous. She just has something very important to tell him. Oscar and André, modern day AU. Again.


**Xirysa Says:** Oh boy. I've put this one on hold for far too long. Either way, enjoy! And happy new year! (Manna, you'd better recognize this. Or most of it, at least. 8D) Oh, and yes, I'm doing the 365 drabbles. Thing is, it's original fiction, over at FictionPress. My pen name's the same over there, though, so if you want to read it go ahead.

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Solicitous

-x-x-x-

**so****lic****i****tous: **anxious or concerned

-x-x-x-

Oscar is not nervous.

She is just pacing through the small apartment and looking at her watch every few minutes because she is… What? What is she, then, if not nervous?

Certainly not anxious. Or even worried. Not at all…

Perhaps, she thinks, a glass of water will calm her down a bit. Oscar walks into the small kitchen and right by the cupboard that holds all the alcohol—all the precious, glorious, delicious alcohol…

Oscar shakes her head and opens a cupboard to grab a glass. No use thinking about the wine now, she muses. Or for a while. She fills up the glass with water from the sink and wrinkles her nose when she takes a sip. It's not that she doesn't like water; on the contrary, it's very refreshing. Usually, though, when she wants something to calm her down, she prefers tea. Or coffee. Or hot chocolate. Or… Anything with a high caffeine or sugar content, really, as odd as that sounds.

She walks out of the kitchen and plops down on the couch in the main room of the apartment. Oscar reaches for the remote, wondering if anything good might be on television. Glancing at her watch again, she pulls her arm back and takes another sip of water. Nothing good is never on at this time of day. Either way, she doesn't watch much television anyway.

The phone rings, and when she looks at it, the caller ID says that it's Rosalie. Oscar bites her lip. Rosalie could probably help her, but… Right now, Oscar really just wants to be alone. She lets the phone continue ringing and finishes her water.

It's almost five o'clock, so Oscar decides to take a shower to try and relax a bit. Wait, relax? Why does she need to relax? She's fine!

But… Oscar looks at her wrist again. A shower _does_ sound tempting… She gets up to walk to the kitchen and puts her glass next to the sink before she walks to the bedroom. A shower it is, then.

She pulls a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt out of the closet. She looks at them for a moment before she puts them away and pulls out a nice blouse and her nicest pair of jeans (by nicest, they have no rips in them, no grass or dirt stains on them and actually fit the way a woman's jeans are supposed to). Why? She doesn't know. Just because.

Oscar grabs a towel and a few other things from the closet before shutting it and going to the bathroom. She dumps everything on the counter and turns the water on to the hottest setting before undressing and stepping into the shower.

Half an hour and a nasty battle with a hairbrush later, Oscar is sitting on the couch again and is more nervous than before.

No, not nervous! Impatient. Yes, she is impatient. That's all.

But if Oscar is just impatient, why is her stomach twisting about as if a hundred butterflies are fluttering around inside it? She looks longingly at the kitchen; specifically, the cupboard housing the alcohol. Maybe one glass would calm her down enough…

Before she can decide of she wants to risk a glass or not, the front door opens and André walks inside. He seems surprised that she is home already, but smiles at her and carelessly tosses his briefcase on the ground before bending over to take off his shoes.

There aren't butterflies in her stomach anymore, she thinks as she gets up to greet him and help him out of his coat. Now it's a swarm of locusts, hopping about inside her and eating away at her sanity.

Oscar helps him out of her coat, and André quickly bends down and steals a kiss from her.

She sighs. "Nice to see you, too."

He grins, and it feels like the locusts have procreated. "Is something wrong?"

The question snaps her out of her thoughts. "W-what?" She's stammering—she almost never stammers! "What makes you think that?"

The locusts have definitely procreated.

André takes his coat from her and hangs it up in the closet by the door. "You're home rather early, and you've dressed up." He puts a hand up to her forehead, and she sighs impatiently. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I know you're a doctor, André," she says as she removes his hand from her forehead, "but you're a _pediatrician_. You make children feel better. Not grown women."

He pouts and holds her left hand in both of his. Brushing the smooth silver band on her ring finger with his thumb, tracing the edge of the small diamond, he looks at her with a slightly dejected expression on his face. "Not even you?"

Oscar laughs and puts an arm around his waist, leading him to the couch. "André, we've been married for only a year."

Slipping an arm around her, André attempts to change their course to the kitchen. "And what a wonderful year it's been. Want some wine?"

Oscar tugs him back to the couch and forces him to sit down. "I'm fine, actually."

André blinks. "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" His expression is blank.

"André!" Oscar swats his shoulder playfully and sits down next to him. "I'm serious!"

"So am I." He looks at her again. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Oscar bites the inside of her cheek. Should she really tell him now? He would find out later, of course, but… No. She must tell him. She scratches the bridge of her nose and looks down at her bare feet, which suddenly look very interesting. "Well…"

André puts his hand under her chin and forces her to look up at him. "Yes, Oscar?" He sighs. "You know you can tell me anything."

She sighs. "Yes, I know." It's now or never. "I was sent home from work early today."

He groans. "Oscar… You didn't punch someone in the face again, did you?"

"No, I did not. And anyway, that stupid bastard was touching my ass! What did you expect me to do?" She huffs. "I don't know how you do it, especially now since the weather's getting bad. Little kids throw up all over you at least three or four times a day, and you still manage to be so calm!"

André shrugs. "You get used to it. Plus," he rubs her arm gently, "you know I love kids. Now, you were saying something about leaving work early?

Oscar can feel those locusts again. She nods and takes his hand and puts it in his lap—she can't concentrate if he does _that_. "Yes, I did. I felt dizzy for a bit, and Marie said that I haven't been looking well lately, so she sent me home early and told me to take a few days off."

"I see." André's in doctor mode now. There's no stopping him unless she intervenes quickly. "So, when you say you're dizzy—"

"Let me finish first!" When he gives her an apologetic grin, Oscar sighs and continues. "I stopped by the drug store to pick up some medicine and some other… Things. I've been suspicious for a while, now, but I wasn't that sure. Now, though… If everything goes well…"

"Yes, Oscar?" André's looking at her expectantly, and Oscar can feel herself starting to blush. She buries her face in the jacket of his suit—he still hasn't changed yet—and wraps her arms around his neck.

"You'regoingtobeafathersoon!"

Her words sound muffled and jumbled together, and André's not sure if he heard Oscar properly or not. "What?"

Oscar pulls away and looks up at him. "I'm pregnant." She says it slowly, allowing each word to be heard properly and clearly. Not that it's hard or anything; there's only two! But knowing André, it may take a while for him to register what she has just said.

There's a full minute of silence between the two before André reacts. "You're… what? B-but… But how?"

"You see, André," Oscar begins, "when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—"

André blushes, and she smiles. Sometimes he acts like such a young child! "I know _that_, Oscar, but… When? When is it due?"

"Seven months. About. I'm not too sure, though. I have to call the hospital and make an appointment soon."

"Oh, Oscar…" He leans down and kisses her slowly, and she eagerly responds. When he pulls away, Oscar is a bit disappointed. "Oscar, we're going to be parents…"

"Mm," she sighs happily, rubbing her still flat belly and laughing softly when André kisses it softly. "We are."

"Hey, baby," he croons, and Oscar laughs.

"Hey yourself."

André looks at her with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "I wasn't talking to you."

Oscar laughs again. "I know." She folds her legs underneath her and snuggles into him. "You know, we aren't going to be alone much longer," she says as she fiddles with the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah…" He puts a hand on her stomach and smiles at her. "Are you nervous?"

"Me?" She scoffs. "No, of course not!" She takes his hand and presses his hand onto her belly. "Keep your hand there—it's like magic locust poison."

André just blinks at her. Locust… poison? Shaking his head, he picks Oscar up and places her in his lap. He'll think about that later. "Now, where were we?"

Oscar looks at him lazily and leans up, kissing him long and slow. "I think I remember…"

"I think I'll take tomorrow off."

"Good."

"I know you think so."

"Of course. Come on, let's go."

"Alright." André lets Oscar get up before following her to the bedroom. "Oscar, I've got a question."

She sits down on the bed and looks up at him. "What?"

He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it in the closet before he sits down next to her and begins to unbutton his shirt. "You were nervous, weren't you?"

Oscar grins at him and moves his hands out of the way so she can unbutton his shirt herself. "Scared shitless."

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**Xirysa Says:** Well, there you go. Not much to say on this, aside from I really should have worked on this a rather long time ago. Does anyone else think that André would make an excellent pediatrician? I'm debating whether I want to do that or go into genetic research, but… Meh. I've still got a couple of years of school to decide that. Feedback is appreciated!

**EDIT:** Sorry, guys, about a mistake I had earlier. At one point I thought that I had put down André asking Oscar when the baby was due, not how long she was pregnant for. Apparently I didn't, and I apologize now for that. I changed it, don't worry, but I felt embarrassed. How can I claim to want to be a doctor now when I don't make things clear? I've known enough pregnant women (older, married friends, cousins, aunts and the like) to know when the belly is obvious, and... Gah. I feel ashamed. And rather stupid. But the mistake is fixed now, don't worry. I'M SORRY!


End file.
